#but with my wife in the hospital it felt appropriate.

[kirby-the-gorb]

[mothwingwritings]

Doppo, Shibukawa, Motobe, Biscuit, And Yujiro As Your Sugar Daddy 💄💋✨

Hi everyone!!! Sorry I dipped out for a moment, I had an eventful past two weeks (but some of the event has been writing stuff, so that’s something at least lul) and now I come back offering whatever the hell this is lol. The idea of the Baki men being sugar daddies came to me in a vision while I was supposed to be working, so of course as the responsible individual that I am I focused on that and started writing this and here we are now! :D It’s for all my dilf/gilf lovers out there. You are all lovely little treasures and I adore you all. :*

As you can probably tell by the subject matter of this one, 18+ only please!!!

Thank you for reading!!!

Warnings: Sex, sex work/reader is a sex worker, mentions of various sexual acts, possessive/obsessive tendencies from your clients, dubcon, mentions of noncon, Yujiro Hanma being Yujiro Hanma, mentions of threesomes and open relationships, very little editing.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗Doppo Orochi˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

·         Doppo would be an exceptional sugar daddy. He’s attentive and kind to you, both when you are out on dates and when you share private time together, and you can always tell he’s truly excited to spend time with you (even when sex isn’t involved). He loves to spoil you and has the money to back it, gifting you whatever your heart desires, all you have to do is say the word.

·         He’s a big family man, and as such he may push the boundaries a bit of what your relationship is. It’s hard to see him as just a benefactor when he’s sending you good morning and good night texts, inviting you over for home cooked dinners, calling you just so he can hear your voice and talk about silly things, checking in on you to make sure you are safe and happy. It may be pushing the line of what is appropriate and what isn’t for your relationship, but you can’t lie and say it isn’t nice feeling so cared for.

·         That being said, you know Doppo has a wife that he loves very much, so there is no confusion of your role as just a sugar baby in this dynamic. In most cases such a strong spousal bond may cause trouble on your end, but luckily for you Natsue is as fond of you as Doppo is. She’s definitely not as into the sexual aspect of your company as Doppo is, but get ready for plenty of passionate threesomes should the three of you find yourselves together and in the mood.

·         Doppo is very open about sharing his life with you. He invites you to all his matches, you have free access to Shinshin Kai dojo, and after a certain level of trust is reached, he’ll even give you a key to his house. At first it felt strange, like you were bordering on something taboo having so much access to his private life, and you worried you were taking advantage of his hospitality. But as time wore on you realized that his fondness for you was just so great that he wanted you to be a part of his life as much as possible, regardless of what the typical sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship was. However, if the familiarity and closeness ever made you uncomfortable he would end it immediately, reverting back to business as usual (though it would make him extremely sad).

·         His main downside is that he’s definitely very ‘dad-like’ and sometimes you feel more like a child he is over protective of then his beloved sugar baby. His fatherly advice and guidance can be a bit overbearing, and it takes all you have not to roll your eyes at his griping over some of your decisions and future plans.

·         If it doesn’t end up working out with Doppo, he has a hot son you can fall back on :)

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˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗Gouki Shibukawa˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

·         Shibukawa truly is a wild card. You have no idea what to expect when this man calls on your services. He’s hired you for things as mild as enjoying afternoon tea with him and as raunchy as participating in the most degenerate sexual roleplay you can possibly imagine (consensually, of course).

·         So even though he’s one of your older benefactors, he is certainly far from boring. In fact, you can’t help but get excited whenever he reaches out to you, wondering what he may have in store for your meet up.

·         Shibukawa is one of the less sentimental of the sugar daddies. There is definitely no mistaking that your relationship is strictly for pleasure, and as a side effect of that his private life is a virtual mystery to you. You have your suspicions about what he does with his spare time, but should you pry too much he’ll swiftly and efficiently end the conversation, focusing his attention instead on the sweeter side of your affair.

·         However, he is far from cold. Shibukawa always treats you extremely well and pays you even better, so he quickly becomes one of your favorite clients.

·         Also, he’s extremely interesting. This man could make a story about what he ate for breakfast sound like the most fascinating thing on the world, so even if nothing big or exciting happens in the time you spend with him, at the very least you know you won’t ever be bored.

·         Don’t let his age fool you-he is a beast in bed. With age comes experience, and that has never been truer than with Shibukawa. You don’t think you’ve ever quite felt the thrill you get when you have intimate time with Shibukawa with any other client, let alone actual romantic partners you’ve had.

·         His downside is that his mood towards you is always fluctuating. He will be in constant contact with you for weeks at a time and then fall off the face of the earth, only to pop back up expecting you to prioritize him over your other clients. It’s a bit obnoxious, especially if he is your best paying client and you are relying on him financially, yet he refuses to keep you in the loop of any plans he wants to involve you in or meet ups he may be concocting.

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˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗Motobe Izou˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

·         The KING of pet names. I honestly don’t think this man has ever called you your actual name once. Baby, sweetheart, dove, little one-the list goes on. If you called him a pet name back, he would probably have a heart attack brought on by the sheer amount of joy that would bring him.

·         He may not be as wealthy as some of your other clients, but his care and devotion to you are off the charts. Each time he calls on your services he always greets you with flowers or chocolates, and each date he takes you on is to a place you like or recommend, prioritizing your favorites over the stuff he may prefer. He’s at your beck and call; willing to drop everything should your schedule open up and you have the time to spend with him.

·         He’s very protective of you, having legitimate concerns over whether any of your other customers are overly handsy or make you do and participate in things you are uncomfortable with. He tries to play it cool and ask about your health and well-being nonchalantly, but you can tell by the nervous undertone in his voice and the bags under his eyes that his fretting over you and your profession wears heavily upon him, affecting his day to day life.

·         He’s also low-key scared that you prefer other clients over him (even though you have never done anything to make him perpetuate this idea), so he stresses himself out over that as well.

·         Motobe is an incredibly intimate lover. He takes his time with you, committing to memory which of his actions brings you the most pleasure so that he can use them time and time again to drive you wild. Every caress of his hand and kiss of his lips is gentle and loving, he treats you as if you are the most precious being on the planet earth and it never ceases to make you melt.

·         That being said, he has the toughest time distinguishing boundaries in your relationship, constantly blurring the lines between professional and personal. Anyone that interacts with the two of you can see just how head over heels for you he is, and more often than not when out and about people just assume you are spouses based solely on how openly affectionate and lovey dovey he is with you. His doting can be rather heavy-handed, not to mention disconcerting, especially when you work so hard to establish clear boundaries with him.

·         … But still, you can’t find yourself being too upset at Motobe. Even when he takes things too far, Motobe is certainly the most caring client you’ve had, earnestly watching over you and taking the best care of you he can with the limited time he has with you. Even with all his quirks, you have a definite soft spot for the man.

·         And who knows? Maybe someday when you seek another line of work and leave this one behind you can go on an actual date with him? He’ll most certainly be waiting on you, more than ready to make it official. :)

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˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗Biscuit Oliva˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

·         If Biscuit is yoursugar daddy, my dear you have it MADE.

·         He is the IDEAL sugar daddy. He’s handsome, sweet, wealthy, and not afraid to lavish you in all of the finer things. It’s not uncommon for you to go out on a date with him only to come home in a new designer outfit of your choice, decked out in a varying level of jewels he let you pick out yourself.

·         And it’s not just material possessions, he loves taking you on all kind of exotic trips and vacations, taking you to places you never dreamed you’d be able to go. It makes his heart swell seeing the excitement in your eyes the moment the plane touches down at each new locale, your unbridled joy spurring him to feel just a thrilled by this adventure as you do (even if it’s to a place he has been countless times before).

·         But even when he’s not whisking you off to fun and foreign places, he always makes every date exciting. Regardless of if it’s small meet up, or a full on whirlwind adventure, there is never a dull moment with Biscuit.

·         Being with him is like an honest to god fairytale, you feel like some kind of royalty whenever you are in his presence. He dotes on you to the extreme, showering you in affection, praise, and gifts. You’ve never felt more beautiful or important than you do when you are with Biscuit.

·         All that being said, this man really makes you earn the title of sugar baby. His sex drive is off the charts and he has an insatiable attraction to you, which means the moment he sees you, he’s on you. Of course he shows decorum out in public, presenting as the perfect gentleman on any dates he escorts you on while out in the public eye. But the moment you two are behind closed doors? Prepare to be absolutely ravished. You probably won’t be able to walk for a few days once he’s done.

·         Like Doppo, you are aware that Biscuit already has a special lady in his life. As such, Biscuit made sure that you were someone that Maria was not just OK with, but someone she genuinely liked. You take that kind of as a badge of honor, as Maria has a tendency to be very picky with the people she surrounds herself with. But the two of you hit it off within minutes of meeting each other, which is a huge relief to both you and Biscuit.

·         You’re not expected to participate in the ‘sugar’ end of the deal with Maria, but should you show interest in Maria in that way, Biscuit would be over the moon. Whether it be a threesome or just the two of you together while he watched, he’ll be absolutely delighted either way (and expect to be handsomely compensated for the good time. ;). Just don’t start liking each other more than him, OK? He would probably pass away from heart break if the two of you left him in the dust. ^^;

·         The biggest down side to having Biscuit as your sugar daddy is that he can be a bit… much. He’s exceptionally clingy, to the point that you have to completely silence or shut off your phone sometimes because he’s always calling or texting you for some reason or another-even when you are with other clients. He also HEAPS on the affection so much that you feel suffocated by it, which is a lot on its own, let alone from a person you aren’t even in a committed relationship with. When you try and ask him to ease up, or even just straight up ignore him for a bit, it only makes his dogged affection worse. :/

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˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗Yujiro Hanma˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

·         The fact that you even became the Ogre’s sugar baby is baffling, and honestly a rather scary and precarious situation for you to be stuck in.

·         The thought that he would actually pay for something so many people would willingly supply to him, or that he could simply take from another person, must mean he finds you extremely interesting. Whether that’s a good or bad thing is to be determined.

·         You don’t ever get a heads up for your liaisons with Yujiro-the man just shows up when he desires your company and that’s that. It doesn’t matter if you are sleeping, with another client, or otherwise engaged, Yujiro ALWAYS takes precedence and you better remember that if you want him to keep paying you.

·         That being said, he gets rather territorial of you when he sees you or hears about you with other clients. Not necessarily jealous (what is there to be jealous of? He’s leagues better than those losers and everyone knows it), but definitely disgruntled that despite his patronage you still choose other men to attend to. You should feel honored to have him as a patron, indebted to the point where he is your soul focus. The fact that you aren’t definitely pushes his buttons.

·         As stated, being Yujiro’s sugar baby is definitely a perilous situation to be in. He is interested in you enough to spend time and money on you, but you would never delude yourself into thinking he held any sort of romantic attraction towards you. You are merely a source of pleasure and entertainment, which in and of itself is fine, that is your profession after all.  But once your use to him ended… where does that leave you? With all other clients they simply moved on, but Yujiro is like an untamed beast. If he gets upset with you in anyway, getting extremely hurt by him is a very real possibility.

·         Also- he’s the strongest being on the planet. He could kill you without batting a lash, whether by accident or on purpose. Merely being in his presence is a daunting experience, and while you’ve dealt with strong and/or questionable clients in the past, Yujiro is a breed all his own. Simply put-he scares you, and he is by far the most dangerous person you’ve ever had to interact with.

·         Everything about your relationship is filled with uncertainty. Sometimes your dates are good- he’ll take you out to nice places to do exciting things and may even get you a gift or two. But more often than not his ‘dates’ (if you can even call them that) are chaotic and abrupt, leaving you in pain and out of it for days.

·         He’s EXTREMELY demeaning as well, calling you whore or slut more than your actual name. He especially likes to belittle you during sexual acts, reminding you of what a useless and weak piece of meat you are as he pounds into you mercilessly. The berating gets even worse when/if you start to feel pleasure from the acts. He enjoys it immensely when you put up a resistance to his advances, only to becoming a slavering mess, completely drunk off his cock.

·         Receiving money from Yujiro is very dependent on his mood and how much fun he had while in your company. There are days when you leave your dates loaded with cash with very little effort, and times when you go above and beyond to please home only to receive a small amount of income. Honestly though, the days when you receive more cash can be worse than when he barely pays you-he is apt to lord it over you and expect more unsolicited favors from you in response to his act of benevolence.

·         The worst part of this whole arrangement is that you don’t have a say in any of it. Any person in their right mind would reject Yujiro as a client no matter how attractive or wealthy he may be, but you were never given that luxury. The moment he took an interest in you, you became irrevocably tied to him with no hope of shaking him.  You would be forced to serve him until he grows tired of you- you just hope that when his interest in you wanes it means your freedom and not your untimely demise. :)

[kaiyaamin]

Can you make a Batmom story where she gets kidnapped and brainwashed by the joker?

YOU'RE STILL IN MY HEART!

She opened her eyes feeling the bright light hit her. She looked around for a second taking in her surroundings, she was definitely in a hospital because of the hideous clothes she was wearing and all the tubes and sorts. She saw two kids sitting on the chairs sleeping peacefully.

She slowly got out of bed, gently walking towards one of the boys. Shaking his shoulder, suddenly he woke up and gazed at his mother. Mom, are you okay, how are you? wait no you need to get back into bed, she was confused about why on earth this boy called me her mom. Umm sweetie I am not your mother and actually where are your parents? What the fuck was Dick's face at this moment. Did his mother just forget who he was, panicked he woke up Damian. What do you- UMMI are you okay, I was so worried. But to his surprise, she just stared at him.

She called the nurse and asked for the children to be taken to their real parents, but the nurse only said wait a moment a returned with a man. Y/N was relieved but for the wrong reason, Excuse me sir, but your kids keep calling me mom and I don't find that appropriate. Now Bruce was even more confused, Honey what are you talking about? Moving closer to her only for her to step back. She claimed she didn't know who he was, Bruce tried to explain that they were married and these were their kids Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian. But all she said was why would I named my child Dick?, this made Dick not happy, and refused to say anything after this humiliation.

They took her to Wayne Manor where she was astonished that she even lived here. Alfred had hoped for Mrs.Wayne to be alright but was hurt by the discovery of her loss of memory. Their children especially Jason wanted to take revenge on the Joker but because of Batman no killing rule he couldn't kill him but theirs no rule for torture.

Bruce decided that he would sleep in the guest room tonight till his wife was comfortable. Jason volunteered to take to her room, helping her up the stairs to her room. Jason didn't take the news well, he was always a mama boy and would always say he loved mom more than dad (it was true).

A few hours later it was time for dinner usually Y/N would ask how everyone's day was but she just sat in silence playing with her food. It was awkward, to say the least, Tim felt all emotions when looking at his mother but was especially sad she didn’t even glance at him or care he was drinking coffee at night in front of her. But to everyone's dismay, she left sitting on the couch staring off into the distance. Guys, why don't we show her some pictures and tapes of us together, she will surely remember, Damian had said to bring our hopes up. It was worth the shot, Bruce exclaimed getting up along with Alfred to get everything ready.

They set up everything with the utmost perfection, they all gather around the TV ready to show their mom everything.

Dick was the first one to show. Good morning everyone it is currently 7:30 am, and we're here to wake up little dickie for his 11th birthday, his mother said next to her was his dad. Honey were probably watching this- only to be interrupted by his wife shushing him. Bruce aimed the camera towards their son laying their drooling on his pillow. Alright, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! They screamed together only to cause Dick to fall off his bed and onto the floor but he quickly recovered hugging his parents and blowing out his candles. What did you wish for Dick? Y/N asked hoping her son would give some hints but he only kept his mouth shut stuffing himself with the chocolate cake. Best birthday Ever!! Dick said with a toothy grin with cake all over his mouth.

Seeing this brought very vague memories but it was very slowly coming back. It looked so perfect, they were so perfect. Bruce looks over at his wife seeing something spark within her deciding to move on to Jason's video.

Batmom was holding the camera with excitement all over her face. Can you believe this, it's my baby bird's first Prom suddenly she started crying like a child not ready to let him go. Jason hugged his mother wearing a fancy black suit with his hair styled nicely looking like a prince. Mom, don't cry I will always be your baby bird no matter what, trying to calm his mother down by rubbing her shoulders. You better keep your promise, Y/N said in a threatening tone. She took many pictures of Jason and his date together before they were off in the limo. Their Y/N was hand in hand with her husband reciting all their Prom memories together sharing heartfelt laughs.

It was Tim's graduation video next, It shows Y/N and Bruce holding flowers and a poster saying congratulations on getting out of school, with excited grins. Finally, Tim's name was called with honors only to be interrupted by his mother screaming and shouting that's my son! Tim had made valedictorian and boy was Y/N proud of her Timmy. She took many videos, silently remembering to brag about this to the other moms. Tim ended his speech with a final thank you to his parents, especially his mother. Ohhh Bruce, did you hear that? he thanked me for his accomplishments, crying and sobbing at the same time. Many people turned around but the Bat family did not care with proud grins on their faces. Everyone later congratulated Tim with his mother repeatedly kissing his forehead and hugging him so tight.

Tim watched the video remembering everything that happened that day after they went to his favorite restaurant with a giant cake his mom ordered just for him. He couldn't hold back his tears and hugged his mom and to his surprise, she hugged him back just as tight with tears in her eyes.

next was Damian video, It was Christmas day, and all the children raced down the stairs to open their presents. It was also Damian first Christmas with the Bat family. Ok, kids since it is Damian's first Christmas with us he will open his presents first, Batmom said handing her son his first gift with an excited grin. Damian and the rest of the kids heard Meow Meow, Damian ripped to wrapping paper off the box opening it to find a cute small black kitty cat. Damian was ecstatic hugging his Ummi and father. What are you going to name it? bruce said with a lace of curiosity in his voice. I vote Demon spawn, Jason shouted only to receive a murderous glare from Damian. I am going to name it Alfred the cat, Damian said. I guess we have Alfred the first, Y/N said while pointing at Alfred who was sipping his tea. And Bruce finishes and says Alfred the second while holding the adorable cat.

All the kids looked over to see their mother crying with tears streaming down her eyes ruining her mascara not like she cared. All her babies ran to her including Bruce hugging her tight trying to stop the tears. Oh kids, I remember and I am so sorry I have forgotten but looking at you all, you make me so proud. Now it wasn't just Y/N who was crying but everyone was even Alfred shed a tear, Come on Alfred join us, Y/N said pulling Alfred in the hug and not letting him reply. It was perfect, they were perfect no matter how chaotic her family gets they will always have each other no matter what.

[takearisk-xo]

ALREADY HERE

so @brightlybound asked what already gone would be like with the roles reversed, to which i replied "don't give me more fic ideas!" but i couldn't stop the brain rot and this happened anyway. thanks for all the love brightly!!! you yelling about already gone h/g has been an endless source of joy and cackling <333 i've written this little crack au just for you and it is appropriately titled already here

---

Harry sat up a little straighter in his hospital bed as the door to his room opened and a slight figure, with waist length red hair, slipped into the room. Ron and Hermione were arguing about something over the top of his legs, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what. He thought it had something to do with Ernie MacMillan, but now they were going on about Magical Games and Sports and he couldn't be bothered to play catch up.

Ginny didn't acknowledge any of them, and went straight over to the Healer station to read through the latest additions to Harry's chart. For the shortest of moments, a little pang of annoyance reverberated through his chest, then he remembered that Ginny was now his wife, and was free to peruse his medical history as she pleased.

Wife.

She was his wife.

No one had told him how it happened. His days-long bout of unconsciousness, after he'd found out about Sirius, had everyone pretty tight lipped with further details. It was maddening to know little snippets of how his life at twenty-one looked, and yet have absolutely no context for how he'd gotten there.

"I'm telling you," Ron declared loudly. "He started in chess before getting promoted. He never worked in International Cooperation."

"Yes, he did!" Hermione shot back, her tone bordering on furious. "Because I had to work with him on that export of illegal chimera cubs!"

Ron shook his head and looked ready to let loose another retort but Harry cut him off.

"Can-" He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on Ginny, who in turn, still had her gaze firmly fixed on the parchment in her hands. "Can I talk to Ginny for a moment?"

She glanced around to meet his stare, her brown eyes sharp and a little furrow appearing above her nose. On either side of him, Ron and Hermione exchanged a silent conversation made up of raised eyebrows and shrugs. They must've come to some sort of consensus however, because they both stood at the same time and Ron murmured a quick, "We'll go get tea."

Ginny maintained her wary expression as Hermione gave her shoulder a little squeeze then ducked past her. Ron followed soon after, shutting the door behind him and then they were alone. Alone for the first time since Harry had awoken to find his limbs too long, his friends almost unrecognizable, and the only family he'd ever known to be dead.

Sliding Harry's paperwork back into its slot, Ginny made a show of crossing her arms and frowning at where he sat on the bed. He hardly wanted to have this conversation tucked into the bedsheets like an invalid, so he tugged the blankets aside and moved to stand.

"Don't-" she murmured with a pleading edge to her voice. She'd taken two steps closer in the time it'd taken him to swing his feet around to the side.

Harry huffed impatiently and scowled back at her. "Last I checked, my head was causing all the problems. Not my legs."

Her hard gaze didn't waver, and she apparently didn't consider this statement worthy of a response.

He stayed sitting anyway.

"I have questions," he began.

"I expect you do." Ginny leaned into another step, with her arms still crossed and her eyes flicking down to her feet. "That doesn't mean I have to answer them."

The annoyance he'd felt earlier shifted and heated into full blown irritation. "If you think I'm going to be alright laying here and eating casseroles-"

Ginny spoke over his outburst before he'd even picked up steam. "You're going to have to be."

Harry narrowed his eyes and decided if she could ignore his assertions then he was well within his rights to disregard hers.

"We were... friends," he struggled uselessly, trying, and failing, to ask his first question somewhat delicately. "What changed?"

Her throat bobbed, like it was difficult to swallow even though the look on her face remained impassive.

Harry couldn't stand it. "What changed!?"

Blinking a few times, her reserved mask slipped and her eyes turned blazing.

"Nothing!?" Ginny threw her hands into the air impatiently. "Everything!? But I'm sure as hell not going to sit here and try to prove myself to you!"

Turning on her heel, she stormed toward the door, and cool regret leaked into his bloodstream. He shouldn't have let his own composure slip.

Harry stood and lunged after her.

"Wait-" His hand closed around her elbow just as she reached for the doorknob. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just..."

He trailed off, unsure exactly of what he was trying to say. Ginny kept her back to him and he heard her pull in a shaky breath.

Errantly, like a stray thought, Harry observed just how petite she was. Ginny had always been quite short, but Harry also had a lingering malnourishment to him, so he'd never thought much of their difference in size.

Until now, when he stood next to her nearly a full head taller.

His fingers tightened around her arm in question. She turned enough that he could see the look on her face, and the unshed tears clinging to her lashes.

He let go in an instant, guilt and discomfort spearing through him like a lance.

"I'm sorry," he said again, taking a step back toward his hospital bed.

She swiped at her eyes in clear fury and Harry couldn't tell if it was directed at him or that fact that he'd seen her cry.

Maybe both?

"It's not an easy story to tell," she said eventually. "And I'm not getting into it when you've only been conscious again for a day and half."

Harry nodded, not really registering her words as much as the clear worry that shadowed her face.

A beat too late, he realized she was waiting for a response and he rushed, "Yeah, okay."

Ginny nodded once, her hard exterior replacing the momentary show of vulnerability. Harry stood watching her, scratching a loose thread in the sleeve of his patient robes and waiting for her to leave.

She didn't.

Instead, after a few moments of glaring at him, her shoulders slumped in time with her exhale and her face twisted into agony. He only had a split second warning before she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his ribs.

Harry stood quite stunned for a second, at a complete loss for what to do next.

Thankfully, Ginny didn't allow him to remain clueless. With her face buried in his chest, she choked out a muffled, "Hug me you idiot."

He muttered another quick apology and did as instructed.

Not seeming to mind that his hold around her shoulders was stiff, she clung to him without reservation as her breath hitched with more unshed tears.

Harry had not been the source of much comfort in his life, at least in the parts of his life he could still remember, but Ginny seemed to be receiving some kind of ease anyway. Little by little, he relaxed into it, into the feel of her tucked into his embrace, into her hands fisted in the robes at his back, and the scent of her wildflower hair.

Time stretched, and it could've been several minutes or several hours for all the attention he was paying the clock on the wall.

Ultimately, however, Ginny's hold did loosen and she sucked in a shuddering sigh as both their arms dropped back to their sides.

She stared up at him, her expression a bit sheepish, but also with a hint of something so unapologetic, he wondered if it wasn't so much her feelings in that moment as much as it was her constant state of being.

"I guess I'm not coping as well as I thought." She sniffed, wiping her eyes and shooting him a self deprecating grin.

Then Harry realized she was pretty.

No, that wasn't right. She'd always been rather pretty, but in a girlish, innocent type of way.

The Ginny that stood before him now was stunning. Shining copper hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves. Freckles dusted her cheeks and nose, etching constellations down to her neck and collarbones. While her bright amber eyes were lit from within by a fire that looked like it could burn the world down three times over if she had the inclination.

"Do-" Harry began in some lame attempt at making amends. "Do you want to stay? We don't have to talk!" he added quickly. "Or we could talk about something else? But I understand if you don't want to talk at all. Really, either works for me. Talking, or not talking, I mean-"

This startled a laugh out of her and Harry felt a deep rooted elation take hold at being the cause of such a thing.

"If you say 'talk' one more time," she said in reply, "I'm going to throw myself in the river."

Harry blinked. "What river?"

She breathed out a chuckle, but she couldn't hide the trace of sadness that pinched the corners of her eyes.

"Do you think we could..." she hesitated, and Harry noticed her twist a thin gold band around her finger. "Just for a little while longer?"

Harry's eyes blurred a bit at the edges, a new emotion gripping his lungs as he took in her hopeless expression.

He nodded, and with a relieved sigh, she folded herself into him once more. Prepared for it this time, he tucked his chin on the top of her head and let the swirling flowery scent of her engulf his senses.

He'd committed it to memory long before she let go.

[thebadgerclan]

Divine

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x reader

Summary: Aleksander believes you are divine--akin to a Saint...

Aleksander had been alive long enough to not believe in Saints.  He knew that “Sankta Lizabeta” was truly Elizaveta Belsky, a Fabrikator whose power was kept hidden, that “Sankt Grigori” was just a talented Heartrender, and that “Sankt Ilya” was nothing more than a power hungry fool who destroyed everyone and everything he loved.  But of thousands of people Aleksander had met in his lifetime, there was only one person who he considered a Saint, a true, living Saint.  You, his wife of nearly three centuries.

When you possessed power such as Aleksander’s, you saw what others called divine as power.  Extreme power, yes, but power nonetheless.  But you, you were truly divine, there was simply no other explanation.  Aleksander had loved the Book of Saints he’d had as a child, the illustrations of the holy men and women rendered in stunning color making him think he might just believe in Saints.  And then he’d met you, and he knew that you were divine.

As the Grisha grew more powerful and secure, Aleksander watched you flourish.  Your power had always been great, but it was the other things, the small things, you did that made your husband want to worship at your feet.  As long as he’d known you, you’d gone out of your way to help others; helping a local village with their harvest, volunteering at hospitals, and similar things.  People rallied behind you, which was extraordinarily helpful when the Second Army was being formed, and you proved to be an excellent leader.

Aleksander was not a pious man, but when he saw you knelt before a Grisha child, happily listening to whatever they had to say or arguing your point before the King’s council, he felt the urge to fall to his knees before you and cross himself.  And on several occasions, he did.  You’d been seated at your vanity the first time he’d done it, and to say you’d been taken off guard was an understatement.

One second, Aleksander was fastening his kefta, the next, he was knelt at your feet, your hands in his.  “Sweet Y/N,” he’d whispered in Old Ravkan, the syllables lilting together like a melody.  “I will worship you until we are dust on the wind.  I will venerate you for the rest of my life, I will love you until the end of time.  Moya lyubov, I love you more than there are stars in the sky.”  His declarations always followed a similar theme; expressing his undying love for you and vowing to adore and venerate you always.

Decades later, when Aleksander had taken the throne and made you Queen, he began petitioning to make you a Saint.  The Church was resistant, of course they were but after nearly a century of King Aleksander’s persistence, they caved.  Their condition, however, was that your Sainthood would only be granted after your death, as they’d learned the dangers of a living Saint with Sankta Alina.

It took three more centuries, during which Aleksander loved you deeply, venerated you endlessly, and worshiped you freely, for you to earn your Sainthood.  The Kerch, tired of neutrality, invaded, and as you always had, you defended your people.  It didn’t matter that you were the Queen, you charged into battle at the front of your troops, fighting with everything you had until the very end.  An extension of the Fold now laid on the shores of Os Kervo, a result of your husband’s grief and rage.  You died in his arms, the press of his lips still felt on yours as you closed your eyes.  The shadows there writhed angrily, feeling their creator’s grief as their own.

The chapel had been built on the edge of the new Fold, but to call it a chapel was almost inappropriate.  A cathedral was more accurate: the ceiling was high and arced, the walls bedecked in gold and inlaid with mother-of-pearl.  Nothing less would be appropriate for Queen Y/N.  Your funeral was held there, though your ashes were returned to the Little Palace and added to the wall.  Behind the altar resided your portrait: Sankta Y/N, The Royal Saint, Y/N the Good, Y/N the just, Y/N the merciful, Y/N the beloved.

You were depicted just as the Saints in that book nearly a thousand years ago: vibrant color, a serene expression, and a golden halo around your head.  Aleksander tried to go on, he tried to reign, to be the King Ravka needed, but the hole in heart was too large, the grief was too much.  So he abdicated and appointed Dmitri, his closest and most trusted advisor, to the throne.

Aleksander relocated to Os Kervo, residing in the monastery dedicated to the Chapel of Sankta Y/N.  He did not enter the religious life, but he did spend his days in prayer, speaking to you, his beloved, darling, cherished wife.  When the day finally came that Aleksander rejoined the Making At The Heart Of The World, he was given the same opulent funeral you’d received, parts of his remains were placed in the crypt alongside yours, and the remainder of his ashes were sent to the Little Palace to reside with yours.

He’d promised that he would worship you until he was dust on the wind, and he had; he’d promised that he would venerate you for the rest of his life, and he had; and he’d said he would love you for the rest of time, and he would.  Aleksander was afraid of what came next, after more than one thousand years of life, but the sight that greeted him in the afterlife assuaged all of his fears.  “Hi, Sasha.”

[trilobiter]

I haven't mentioned it yet because I didn't really know what to say about it, but my wife and I got covid on our way back from vacation last weekend. Almost precisely three years after we cancelled our first attempt to go on this vacation because of, well, covid.

This is the first time either of us have ever tested positive for covid, and we have tested whenever we've felt sick. And this is definitely the sickest I've felt since I last had the flu, which was incidentally just before the pandemic began.

The scariest part for me was when she had a high fever for several days, and I didn't know how high it would get or how long it would last. We've both been vaccinated and received every available booster, but when it's all happening you just can't take anything for granted. Fevers are terrifying.

But the most physically miserable part for me is the sore throat. I've actually lost track a few times of how long we've been sick, partly because of not ever leaving the house, but partly because my throat has kept me from sleeping much of the last two (three?) nights. Part of the reason I'm even writing this is because I'm anxious about trying to go to bed now. The fatigue, the coughing, the congestion, the chills and aches; those are all just kind of icing on this sore throat cake.

Like I said, we're both vaccinated, and neither of us have needed to be hospitalized. She's taking paxlovid because of concerns about her chronic conditions: I was given the option, but the doctor said that my case appeared so mild that the side effects might not be worth it, so I passed. But mild or not, it's really been kicking my ass.

At this stage it seems like we'll probably come out fine in the end. But I looked up the statistics and it remains a fact that people are still dying of this disease. Nearly seven million people in the world are known to have died of it. There's probably more. Sobering thought when you can't sleep.

If you haven't gotten vaccinated yet, I can now recommend from immediate personal experience that you do. Take the appropriate measures to blunt the impact of this thing, because even when the blow is blunted, it still hits hard. This virus doesn't fuck around.

Gonna go try and soothe my throat enough to sleep long enough to not go insane now.

[stregoni-benefici]

Carlisle and Esme angsty one-shot

It’s 1:26 am and I had this on my mind for ages, but more of a nsfw home office version (which will come too because there is not enough nsfw Carlesme right).  Me and @needahugfromesme came to a conclusion, Carlisle can be a bit of an self-righteous moron and this is just a gentle one shot which touches upon this Also, cw: pandemic 

-

The first months hit like an earthquake with a sense of vague familiarity. It was like going back in time. Human lives kept disappearing under the pale, diligent hands. The mind and hands tried so hard, and there was little they could do. It took an immense toll on him. The stress gradually worsened, each day harsher than the previous one and seemed never ending. Carlisle's returned home broken. The body served as a mere lifeless vessel. His ever-so-compassionate wife suffered alongside him, always waiting in the hallway with open arms full of support and consolation. Yet, Carlisle was not always so keen to see her there.

Sometimes the anguish felt too real to be confronted with the love she offered. While other early mornings, he buried himself into her soft, woollen sweater. Deeply inhaling the sweet scent of warm cinnamon. Each time he found little comfort in his wife's embrace. Love and solace were all she could offer right now, and it pained her. She felt helpless. It never felt enough. Seeing him this way was like a stake through the heart tissue. For the next year, they barely talked, and they barely lived. Esme officially stopped working and focused on charity errands in the country. From time to time, they exchanged calls with Rosalie, Alice and Bella. In rare instances, even Edward. Carlisle's conversations with his youngest son usually spanned through the darkest hours of the night. Edward's ghosts took on a physical form. Carlisle and Esme knew the tragic reality hit too close to home, but there was little they could do. Finally, one autumn morning, when the dew-covered leaves just began to reveal hints of yellow, they found themselves in each other's company. 

"I can only imagine what he is going through, Carlisle", Sighed Esme into his neck. They lay in a soft embrace on the couch. Limbs tightly entwined like the vines of poison ivy. The lack of intimacy in the past few months was noticeable, but none of them verbally addressed it. There was a silent yearning in the air, but the work pressure was too heavy for them to indulge in physical love. Esme never felt brave enough to initiate anything, despite suspecting it might help Carlisle to relax just for a few sacred moments.

Carlisle slowly stroked her caramel hair and pondered on the appropriate answer. 

"My heart is heavy for him…" the words escaped his lips like a sinful confession. 

"He is not facing this alone. Bella is there to bear the burdens of his past." Carlisle gently slid the tip of his finger over her lips, forming a reassuring smile at the end of the sentence. 

She cuddled closer to his chest, closing every existing inch of separation between them.

"Would you be happier if he was here?" She answered his unspoken plea. 

"Yes, I sure would" 

They continued with silent pondering, buried in each other's arms as if it was the last precious moment they shared. And in a sense, it was. Another myriad of challenging hospital shifts followed. The winter was colder and darker than she anticipated, and Esme felt more desperate each week. Carlisle noticed how his wife's lust for life began to wither like a flower losing a battle to frost. The conundrum he faced was unimaginable. Patients' lives depended on his invisible resistance; there was too much at stake, but there was also her. To whom he would bring down the sky and stars. Her hitherto omnipresent warmth has begun to fade away, and in its absence, she metamorphosed into a porcelain-like being. Carlisle despised himself for leaving her like this but perceived his responsibility as a doctor to be of some sick, higher importance. So he chose what he assumed was morally right.

On the morning of the early springtime, when the temperature began to rise during the day while frost still ruled over the night, Esme entered their balcony, which she renovated into a small greenhouse. Certain plants did not withstand the harsh winter. She gently touched their dry leaves with deep sorrow. Yet, ironically sympathised with them. Foolishly her husband's and family's absence affected her so much. They were well, unlike others. Esme played with these thoughts and tried to find bits of delight in tending the flowers. Playing with the idea of asking Rosalie or Edward to come home and join them for a while, at least. Then, a sudden sound of the wheels grinding on the muddy driveway made her swiftly move to the glass wall. Black Mercedes slowly drove to the garage, and Esme's eyes lit up. 

"Aren't we home quite early?" 

Carlisle's smile broke across his chiselled pale face. 

"There have been some changes made." 

His voice was cheerful and velvety. Esme immediately noticed the difference. She was taking the navy blue scarf off his neck in a wink while her fingertips smoothly grazed his skin. 

"I will be working from home for a while." He whispered as he began to kiss the top of her head.  

"I missed you" The words left her lips reproachfully, which he didn't expect. So instead of prolonging the embrace, he gently pulled her away and looked into her amber eyes. 

"I'm sorry, but you know they needed me in the hospital when the admittance spiked…." She didn't let him finish. Her eyes would be watery if she were human. 

"I needed you, Carlisle! Are you telling me that only an internal change made you come home for once?" Her voice, filled with desperation, made him shiver. He was silent for a second; Esme turned away from him, facing the nearest window. How come this man, other times full of wise words, is suddenly not capable of response? A stabbing pain has settled down in the pit of her stomach. She pressed a palm on her belly and leaned over an armchair, achingly fighting an urge to throw up the painful sensation. 

"Love, please. I've always thought you realise the extent of the issue people face now. Please, I apologise if I wasn't here for you, but we have eternity; those people needed me now." 

The sudden wave of anger combined with hurt. Esme stood up and looked into his obsidian eyes. 

"Carlisle, don't turn me into some heartless monster. I have so many words I want to say to you. We have discussed this before—your constant need for moral high ground and the saviour syndrome. Meanwhile, I was drowning, delving in sorrow, when the world fell apart. Have I been just a shadow for the past few months?" 

Carlisle sighed and combed his golden hair back; she fought an urge to run through the doors into the woods, leaving him because that's what he deserved. Some time to think about the next steps before he can hurt her with more unkind words. As much as she understood his compassion, this whole exchange felt unreal. Instead, she silently walked towards the stairs. 

"Esme.." He softly started, his voice meek and apologetic. 

She stopped, her right hand clutching the wooden bannister. 

As much as she tried to be upset with him, and she was, the gentle pull of her tenderness made it impossible for her to leave. 

Carlisle slowly came towards her, struggling to look at her properly. The scent of human blood, disinfectant and shame radiated from his body. 

"You are right, and more excuses could only lead into a painful rabbit hole. I am sorry for being so oblivious." 

Esme sensed that was not enough by a mile, they had long conversations ahead, and she saw how Carlisle squirmed. There were more words he suffocated inside. She even believed he wasn't oblivious but followed his self-righteous altruism as it happened so often. 

His hands carefully reached towards her, and she let him touch her with a slight nod. 

For now, this prevented Carlisle from spilling out more hurtful justifications; for now, he needed to show her his unconditional love. Acta non Verba. 

[mintywolf]

A Long Road Home - Author Notes

For Page 3

(Please do not expect freckle continuity from me.)

It’s fine she’s just spending some time with the president of Night Vale Community College.

The scene of Laudna and Imogen’s (apparent) first meeting went through several variations before arriving at what we’ll be seeing over the next few pages. The very first version, as I previously mentioned, appeared pretty much fully-formed in a dream. (As in, I was reading the completed comic pages in the dream and woke up like Oh that’s cute, I should draw that.) It was a very simple, silly scene wherein Imogen goes into the barn to milk the goats and becomes aware that there is something Spooky lurking above her on the ceiling. (Or in the rafters, as I realized that she wouldn’t have access to Spider Climb yet.) They startle each other, and Imogen throws the milking pail, knocking it down. Realizing it’s actually a (now rather embarrassed) person, she apologizes and, bound by the code of Southern hospitality, invites her in for dinner.

Then when I started expanding the concept of a Southern Gothic Meet Cute Comic into something bigger, I felt there would need to be a scene at the market at some point to establish Imogen’s reaction to crowds and for convenience decided to move their first encounter there. (Later I realized that approximately 75% of fanfic authors have apparently had the same train of thought, haha, because a lot of prequel fics seem to have them meeting there.) In this version Imogen overhears a mysterious stranger being refused service by a fruit vendor and, able to discern from her internal monologue that she’s hungry and just wants a damn apple, decides to intervene on her behalf despite her own discomfort. (And then, again, invites her home for dinner.)

But I also had an image I liked of Imogen entering the woods to find them decorated with eerily beautiful things someone has crafted out of reused odds and ends -- animal bones, broken bottles, twigs, beads, fabric scraps -- and hung from the trees with red string. (I’ve also been waiting for a setting with an appropriate climate so I could draw those birch/aspen trees with the creepy eyeball bark and now I finally have one!) As seen now in the chapter title page.

Combining the two, this was my working draft until very recently:

--

Page 3

Panel 1: (wide) Imogen enters the market square uncomfortably, avoiding the eyes of the other villagers, who regard her with suspicion or even outright hostility. The population is largely human with a few half-elves and halflings sprinkled in and it’s clear that Imogen’s appearance makes her an oddity. Their thoughts crowd her, painfully, and she can hear what they think of her - and each other - without them having to say anything.

Townsfolk Voices: There’s that Temult girl what’s she doin’ here? -- Get out of my head, you freak! -- Cryin’ shame, what a waste of a pretty face -- Is she lookin’ at me don’t look at me I got nothin’ to hide don’t look at me -- how long ‘til closing time I want to go home maybe stop at the pub just one pint this time I swear just one Penny and the kids don’t need to know -- Just honest folk here trying to get by -- damn Susannah Mason is lookin’ fine in that tight dress if I weren’t married if I weren’t married I’d -- what a tragedy for poor Relvin first the wife and now the girl too -- where the hell is the damn squash --

Panel 2: The babel of voices continues as she progresses through the market stalls. Starting to get overwhelmed and wincing from the pain of an oncoming headache, she seeks refuge in a narrow alleyway. 

Townsfolk Voices: So that’s one silver, five copper, wait, no -- heard there was a witch in the woods we already got one witch in town we don’t need another what is Gelvaan coming to -- goodness me gave me a fright -- in MY day these only cost -- who is that never seen her around before hope she’s just passing by don’t like the look of her -- pears, radishes, goat cheese, ham bone -- one silver, seven copper and -- Pelor’s shining britches, what is that -- is that a dead bird on her belt ugh no it’s some kind of rat?? --

A Different Voice: oh how beautiful!

Panel 3: Then a different voice catches her attention. To her surprise, this one isn’t painful.

Different Voice: Should I get an apple? I should get an apple just one still need to buy bread but they’re in season now I do love this time of year everything smells so nice I really shouldn’t have come this was a mistake I’m not wanted here but just one

Imogen: Who . . . whose mind is makin’ that . . . sound?

Panel 4: She peeks out of the alley. A small commotion has gathered around a fruit merchant who is refusing to sell to a strange woman in ragged dark clothing who looks very out of place in the warm-toned surroundings. Despite the summer heat she is wearing a hood that mostly hides her face, but we get a glimpse of long, unkempt dark hair streaked with white, dark lips and curiously colorless skin. Her thinness makes her look taller than she is. Other villagers are glaring at her with distrust and ushering their frightened children away.

Fruit Vendor: They’re not for sale, devil.

Stranger: What? That’s preposterous. It says they’re for sale right there. Look, I can pay--

Fruit Vendor: You watch those hands of yours! They’re not for sale to outsiders, is what I mean. Locals only.

Stranger: Well that’s hardly a sustainable business model.

Fruit Vendor: Go on, get. Afore I call the guard.

Panel 5: Closer on the stranger, who is still looking forlornly at the fruit, starting to twist her long, bony fingers anxiously in her hair. Her thoughts are softer in Imogen’s mind than the others. 

Her Thoughts: the apples were sliced so thin and made into little roses it was so lovely this was a mistake I shouldn’t have come here every town is the same I could do that I don’t have any butter or sugar or flour to make a tart but I could cut an apple like that maybe bake it on the hearthstone it would be pretty I don’t know why I thought it would be different here it’s probably not even the right town everyone is staring I’m not wanted I’m not wanted I should leave I can go another day I’ve done it before but oh I’m hungry I’m hungry I’m hungry

Page 4

Panel 1: The stranger withdraws as a stern, stocky woman of early middle age, conservatively dressed, with dark blonde hair drawn back in a bun, steps forward from the crowd and glares underneath her hood suspiciously with narrow green eyes and an authoritative air. An unpleasant-looking child of about nine folds his arms smugly behind her.

Woman (Cornelia Ashburn): There a problem here, stranger?

Stranger: No. I’m sorry. I’m just leaving.

Panel 2: Watching this interaction, Imogen makes a decision.

Panel 3: The crowd (including the stranger) draws back further as she impulsively approaches the fruit vendor. Putting on her best charming manner, she addresses him, holding out six copper for the listed price of 1cp/each.

Imogen: Well, hi, Mr. Merryday, Miz Ashburn! Fine day, isn’t it? 

Fruit Vendor (warily): Sure . . . How can I help you, Miss Temult?

Imogen: I’d like to buy half-a-dozen apples, please. Good thing I’m local, right?

Fruit Vendor: Fine. That’ll be 3 silver.

His Thoughts: go away go away go away

Imogen: Ugh.

Panel 4: Apples acquired, she looks around, but the stranger has disappeared.

Imogen: (Now, where’d she go?)

Panel 5: Cautiously she enters the woods, following the sound of the stranger’s mind without knowing why she’s doing it.

Imogen: (She can’t be too far off . . .)

Panel 6: She shrinks nervously in on herself a little, but she continues.

--

I was never totally happy with it though because I felt the setup didn’t sufficiently emphasize how miserable Imogen was in Gelvaan before Laudna came into her life. A lot of the script was planned several months ago and most of the first chapter was already written even before Laudna’s death and the resulting Whitestone arc. So while I figured things were pretty bad for Imogen, I didn’t quite imagine how bad. Like, bad enough to fill her pockets with stones and walk into a river.

Which is what she’s doing here. It will be more obvious that that’s what she’s doing on the next page (where I want to talk about something else in the author notes so I’m talking about this now) but I hope her intent is pretty clear? Famously, this is how Virginia Woolf died, but as a lesbian English major I fear I may be overestimating the obviousness of her intentions. (It is referred to in “What the Water Gave Me” by Florence + the Machine and, I’ve just remembered, also Hadestown so hopefully there’s enough cultural familiarity in the reader base to understand what’s going on here.)

The scene clicked into place though while I was listening to “Drumming Song,” a different Florence + the Machine song which, appropriately enough, is about someone trying to escape the clamor in her head:

“I run to the river and dive straight in I pray that the water will drown out the din But as the water fills my mouth It couldn't wash the echoes out But as the water fills my mouth It couldn't wash the echoes out

I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole 'Til there's nothing left inside my soul As empty as that beating drum But the sound has just begun”

This decision was made after I had already sketched out and started working on Page 3 so I actually had to go back and add pockets to her outfit in the previous page. For the purpose of filling them with rocks.

I do regret that (most of) Laudna’s internal apple monologue was lost as a result of this (and the implication that Imogen saved herself by helping Laudna, rather than the other way around) but I think it was an important change. It also undercuts quite how lonely and miserable things were for Laudna before she came to Gelvaan and found Imogen, but there is no scarcity of scenes of pre-Imogen Laudna being sad and lonely and hungry in future pages so I think it’s fine.

[arandomnerdsrp358]

"Shin, I've talked to my wife and we have agreed. Would you like to become our daughter?" Obi-Wan asked her.

It felt like someone had dunked her body in ice water. That was the last thing she expected to hear him say. Every instinct was telling her to run away before she got hurt again.

But these people had proven to her that their hospitality and kindness was unconditional. They had cared for her for weeks and never asked anything of her that wasn’t appropriate

She nodded her head rapidly.

She would like that very much

[montgomeryzuma]

That grieving post reminds me of my experience as a father.

I'll be the first to say, my wife did the bulk of the work giving birth. I think it shouldn't have to be said, but I digress.

I brought her to the hospital two days before my twins were born. She was in incredible pain, could barely stand. We were sure it was labour. It wasn't, but everyone was fine. The hospital kept her for two nights. I wasn't able to stay overnight, I was told no overnight visitors unless she was in labour.

The night they sent her home, her water broke, we drove back to the hospital, they took her in, said she was in labour, and almost immediately sent me home, telling me not to come back until 8 am.

Despite being her husband, and the father of the children.

Once I came back, I was at her side the entire rest of the labour and birth. She was in pain, panicking half the day, stressed out, and afraid. And despite feeling some of that myself, I could do nothing aside from be there and encourage her.

Being twins, our boys were born at 33 weeks, five days. Their lungs weren't fully developed, and their bodies couldn't regulate their temperature yet. So they went into the NICU, into the giraffe units to keep them safe and warm.

We had no idea what we were doing. We didn't know if we were allowed to touch them, cause they were so small. My wife was terrified she'd hurt them, or do something wrong.

I was terrified by the fact that we were now responsible for these two tiny, helpless, perfect babies. I'd wanted to be a father. I chose to take this path with my wife, fully knowing it wouldn't be easy, but here we were, and it was terrifying. I had no one to ask for advice. No one to look to as an example. My wife had her mother, and mine, and cousins and aunts.

Our boys were in the NICU for 28 days. They were born in March of 2020. After 11 days, all visitors except the mother were banned from the NICU.

The hospital we were at has a Ronald McDonald house in the hospital proper, and we managed to get in right before they stopped accepting new families.

I stayed in the hospital, sleeping right next to my exhausted wife, unable to help except to make her more miserable with reminders and trying to rub the pain out of her body, for 28 days. For 17 of those days, I couldn't even look at my children. I couldn't hold them. I couldn't kiss them or hold their tiny hands.

And the world was falling apart. All I could do was make my wife miserable and play Xbox, and pace.

Once that misery ended, we were in a pandemic. Paranoid. Afraid of getting our still-tiny children sick. We had no visitors, no support, no help.

Then I had to go back to work. Afraid of bringing home illness, afraid of missing something happening at home, afraid of my wife getting overwhelmed and depressed by being home alone with two very small infants and no help.

My wife could talk to me, her mother, her friends, her cousins.

I had nobody. My wife was already so stressed out and worried all the time, I felt I had to be the rock for her. My father is a bastard, and I refuse to deal with him in any respect. My stepdad had never been a father to babies, and is a lousy husband. My brother is an idiot, and had his own problems. My friends had fallen out of contact as the pandemic got worse.

I still worry I'm doing the wrong things, taking the wrong steps, saying the wrong words. Are my responses to my kids behaviour appropriate? Am I scaring them? Are they learning enough? Am I doing enough?

And I have nobody. Everyone asks if my wife is doing ok, if things have been alright for her. It's assumed I'm fine.

It's so hard, and there's been so little change in the world as far as support for father's, and it legitimately hurts.

And I only hope change happens soon.

[findingmesstuff]

THE LUNCHBOX💌

a movie or a film. calling it a film would be much appropriate. first of all i love irrfan khan and it saddens that he isn't alive anymore. his acting is always so raw, so alive and so realistic. he's the greatest. now this film. the lunchbox. i like the details in the film like the doormat, the lunchbox, the ceiling fans and the office and the letters. all of them show the art of middle class people. i like how iila says "mrs deshpande's husband is always looking at the ceiling fan and my husband at his phone" to which irrfan replies in a letter that if he woke up and instead of seeing ceiling fans he saw the real world, he would go back to watch the ceiling fans. because of how complicated and fast the world has gotten. irrfan says "when my wife died she got a horizontal burial cot.i tried to buy a burial cot for me the other day and what he offered me was the vertical one. ive spent my whole life standing in buses and trains and now I'll have to stand even when im dead!". so beautiful.

i like how illa says "it takes courage to jump from high buildings and die". i like how she talks about the pain that woman and her daughter had to go through, the moments before they died. the moment when the daughter trusted her mother and knew that they're not going to die. but they did die. it takes courage to end one's life. it takes a lot of courage.

"things never are as bad as they seem"

i like how irrfan talks about his dead wife to whom he loves still very dearly. he stays up all night to watch the recorded shows his wife used to watch. he recalls how when she was alive, she'd keep watching the same show again and again and laugh her heart out. he says only if he kept stealing glances of her while laughing.

i like how irrfan says that "we forget things if we dont have anyone to tell to". so true. he reminisces about his old friends and his old schools and how none of them are there now, but some things like the hospital where his mother father wife died and the old post office, all of them are still there. we all need people to whom we can share things. things which are not extraordinary but very common like identifying yourself in a painting painted by a guy on the roadside.

irrfan(named saajan in the movie) writes illa that he couldn't meet her in the restaurant because he felt old, he never knew when he got old. maybe a day before. maybe in the morning. or maybe when he was asked to sit in a crowded train because he looked old. to him illa was beautiful and young and he couldn't gather the courage to go upto her and tell her how much he liked her but he felt old. he felt old. he felt unfit for someone like illa.

at the end she writes her last letter to saajan/irrfan saying that she leaving for bhutan. that she stood up for herself and her daughter.

[alitheonlyone]

Gf's grandma passed away this morning, and I felt bad that I can't be with her because she got too many relatives there, and it's not convenient if I show up. Maybe she needs my comfort, but it seems inappropriate for me to be there. I'm just a nobody there. I'm not belittled myself in her, it's just everything seems off when I am a woman instead of a man.

If I am a boyfriend, the title will legitimate me to go to the hospital with her and hold her for her comfort. But I am a girlfriend, somehow even I am her wife I don't think it legitimates me to be there.

I know it's not quite important at the moment compared with the death of her grandma. I just felt so powerless and how vulnerable we are. The society makes us prioritise our "title appropriation" over what's the best for our feelings.

[tcclsblog]

Chapter 10: In the most difficult of times...

Many people seek Gurus who are internationally famous with titles who are recognised and respected. I suppose it is beneficial to develop such a karmic link, but these very busy teachers - who travel the world with tens of thousands of disciples, students and followers - are typically very difficult to contact. I consider myself unbelievably fortunate as Singha Rinpoche makes himself available to us pretty much 24/7. I will now recount two instances - of many - when I was filled with gratitude that he was there in the most difficult of times.

In 1999, I was traveling abroad to see my grandmother who was about 100 years old. At that time, my wife was expecting our first child. She had been well enough in her early pregnancy and so I decided to take a trip. 

I came back to learn that, on Chinese New Year’s Eve, she had experienced a little bleeding and was very worried. She was alone and, despite friends and relatives being around in Singapore, she called Rinpoche whom we had only just met about nine months prior. On Chinese New Year’s Eve - a day typically spent with family - he was at our home in the evening, sitting with my wife, reassuring her and offering to bring her to the hospital. Others advised him that it was inauspicious to go to a hospital on Chinese New Year’s Eve, but he replied that he did not mind. Eventually, my wife said she felt better and decided that, since I would be returning in two days, she would wait for my return to see her attending physician together. Thankfully, all went well.

Ten years later, I was at the hospital and called Rinpoche and said, “Lama, my father-in-law just passed away. My mind is blank. I cannot remember what you told us – what should I do?” Rinpoche guided me to put him in the lion position, keep the room quiet and recite some prayers. He advised us not to gossip around him. Just this simple piece of advice gave me and my family so much reassurance and a much-needed sense of calm as we knew that we were being guided to carry out the best course of action.

I am sure there are quite a number of students and disciples with similar experiences of having Rinpoche there with them - physically or over the phone - in the most difficult of times, from being told of an illness to the passing of a loved one (including pets) and everything else in between. It is experiences like these that then also increased my conviction in the teachings of Buddha, for the result of practice is illustrated by Rinpoche’s actions. Someday, we all hope to be just as beneficial. 

This first stanza from the 37 Practices of a Bodhisattva seems an appropriate conclusion to this edition of the journey.

I pay constant homage through my three doors,

To my supreme teacher and protector Chenrezig,

Who while seeing all phenomena lack coming and going,

Makes single-minded effort for the good of living beings.

Tenzin

2 Jan 2022

[wrathfulmercy]

@elpida continued from here

Hospitals. There was nothing he hated more than sitting next to a bed of a loved one without being able to do anything. Helplessness had always been the worst of his enemies cause he simply wasn't used to watch instead of act and this waiting for her to open her pretty eyes definitely didn't help with it. It felt like days were passing even if it probably were just hours he was sitting here without daring to fall asleep. Luckily the adrenaline still running through his veins kept him awake anyways and so he noticed as she suddenly moved and took off her mask. “Sienna.” A weak smile spread on his lips and immediately he sat down on her bed to hold her hand while she spoke. “Thank god you're awake. Hey wait...” As soon as she started to sit up, he shoved her back by her shoulder and shook his head with a chuckle. “No one said you can get up by now.” Of course he understood her concerns, her financial situation was clear to him but it was just one of the reasons they never really talked about his cause it was too closely connected to his job, a topic they would rather avoid as well.

“Calm down, okay? It's alright, I took care of it baby. Calm down.” Hand slipped to her face to caress her skin, his eyes tearing up as he looked down at her and leaned in to press a kiss on her forehead. “You know... for always hating my damn job, this will be pretty beneficial for us in this case. Dare you to ever mention my empty cabinets again.” He remembered it so well how she always made fun of it. The little flat. The empty shelves. As if he had no money left to take care of himself when in fact he just didn't see a point in it. Why should he even bother getting a bigger flat or house when he wouldn't live in there? Why having so many rooms when they would all stay empty without her? The only thing he ever got for himself was the motorcycle but anything else he always planned on saving so he could one day quit this damn job and do something better with it. Now he finally had a reason to spent it well. “Listen to me baby, I closed the shop until you will feel better. Your friend already brought some flowers over so they wouldn't go to waste.” He gestured at the table in the back of the room that was filled with way too many vases and flowers, but Rick thought it was just appropriate for his favorite flower girl. “And I took care of the bills. You're my wife now, what else am I supposed to do with it when I'm not supporting my family, mhm? So relax… I need you to be well. I need you to get out of here so…” his eyes fell down to their fingers which were still laced, his other hand now placed on the top as well. “…so I can marry you properly. If you want that.”

[xunjingdianxue]

这是我用中药浓缩的膏药，治疗带状疱疹的 十几分钟就能止住疼，最多二贴痊愈， Wang's Ancestral Secret Recipe Plaster, Cures Herpes Zoster 王保龙王氏祖传秘方膏药特效治愈带状疱疹 Slow talking herpes zoster 1: The folk rumor goes, "If you have a string of chicken pox like a snake on your body, when it reaches its' head 'and' tail ', you will be helpless." What is this disease called? Some people call it, "Waist Wrapping Dragon", "Waist Wrapping Fire Pill", "Waist Wrapping Snake", "Snake Egg Sore", "Flying Snake Egg" Its real scientific name is "herpes zoster". Who is susceptible to herpes zoster? Generally speaking, the older you are, the more likely you are to have this problem. Once it happens, the more serious the problem will be and the slower you will recover. But this does not mean that only the elderly with low immunity will have this problem, and the young people who often stay up all night are also vulnerable. In recent years, herpes zoster has occurred at a high rate, especially in the hot and humid environment in summer. People are easily trapped by "dampness", which reduces their immunity. For example, after working overtime for many days, problems suddenly appear, or after a high fever, poor sleep, too much pressure, and women's physiological period are all factors that can easily lead to poor immunity and problems. 2: How does Chinese medicine deal with herpes zoster? The most frightening part of herpes zoster is pain. How painful is it? One netizen who had suffered from herpes zoster described it this way: "The right side of my back is covered with blisters. Even the slight friction of my clothes can make me cry out. Sometimes when I am walking on the road, I suddenly feel a sharp pain in my back like being struck by lightning, which makes me want to hit the wall with my head." If the patient is not recuperated in time, this kind of problem is also easy to develop into recurrent and prolonged postherpetic neuralgia, which is painful and painful. It is clinically found that the older you are, the higher the probability of leaving sequelae. Generally, young people feel less pain and get better quickly, while older people feel more pain. If the method is appropriate, you can stop the pain for more than ten minutes, and it will be better in two or three days. (Case) Sequela of herpes zoster Female, 62 years old, has been looking for me to treat herpes zoster for 14 years. He said that he had been in hospital for 28 days. Although he was getting worse and worse, his muscles were stiff. The area of his right chest and back was too large. He could not sleep because of the pain and his head was crooked. His wife had my phone before and lost it. He probably knew that I was from that area. I had moved away from the former clinic. When I couldn't find it, the children believed in the big hospital. As a result, it was getting heavier and heavier, so they had to work hard to find me. Contact me well. I found my home in the evening. The patient's face was yellow and his eyes could not open. I looked at the lesion, and put two patches of plaster on it. After ten minutes, the patient said that the patch had a great effect. The chest still hurt, and then put two patches on the chest. After ten minutes, she said she was comfortable. She also looked red and her eyes opened. He gave her another packet of medicinal tea. Let her go back and call tomorrow. The next day, I called to say that the place where the medicine was applied did not hurt. I also fell asleep last night, but my neck and shoulder felt uncomfortable. I asked her to come again. She was diagnosed with cervical spondylosis. Because of the pain, she always tilted her head. It has been a month. I have treated her for cervical spondylosis three times, and it is OK. Wang Baolong, inheritor of Wang's Tongshun Acupoint Pointing Method Cases Herpes zoster sequela Female, 50 years old, in the summer of 2018, came to consult me about the pain on the outside of her calf. After my diagnosis, I had nothing to do with my waist and knee, and I couldn't tell if the outside of my lower leg was painful. Ask her what happened before the pain and what disease she had. She said that she had herpes zoster and had lost liquid for a week. It was just good. Hearing her say, I immediately understood the sequela of herpes zoster. Although the blisters disappeared and the pain was no longer unbearable, the muscles were stiff, and it was uncomfortable to walk hard, and there was a sense of pain. She ordered three li, a mouth, a hanging bell, a Yang Ling, a Yin Ling, and the tendons of Kunlun. She said she was relaxed and her muscles were still hard. She put plaster on her again. After waiting for ten minutes, she said that the plaster really worked. She asked me for another one and left. Call me in three days and say it's all right. Teacher Wang Baolong Tel. WeChat: 13933150296   慢话带状疱疹 1： 民间传言：“如果你的身上长了一串像蛇一样的水痘，等它长到‘头’跟‘尾’连起来了，人也就没救了。” 这种病叫什么?有人叫它，缠腰龙、缠腰火丹、缠腰蛇、蛇蛋疮、飞蛇蛋... 而它真正的学名叫“带状疱疹”。 如果您 有相关疾病请联系 王保龙老师电话微信：13933150296

[jaynsandy]

"A fair is a fair is a fair."

That was my thought when Sandy and I were graciously invited to attend the Tunbridge (VT) World's Fair with her cousin and his wife. I've never really been a "Fair person". I've always seen the Fair through my perception that it's only a "...competitive exhibition of livestock, agricultural products, and household skills held annually by a town, county, or state and also featuring entertainment and educational displays". Don't get me wrong, those are great reasons to have a fair. It's important to show the community at large that vital agricultural skills and traditions are being passed on to a new generation. It's a testament to stewardship when you see young people (a group that just keeps getting bigger from my perspective) displaying the skills and commitment to slow food and staying small. Not being raised in a community that valued those traits I never really felt an affinity with any of those displays of mastering traditional skills though I've begun, in the past few months, to take a great interest in those very things.

The timing of the Fair is "...just and appropriate in the circumstances" in that it's a celebration of another productive year. Crops, both flora and fauna, are being harvested. The air is getting clearer and crisper. Winter is on its way. There couldn't be a more appropriate time to gather and celebrate the largely successful completion of another Spring and Summer season.

As we were leaving this morning Sandy and I thanked our hosts for both their gracious hospitality and for sharing the Fair with us. We were told that it was an experience for them to see the Fair through our eyes. That feeling goes both ways since I saw a side of the Fair I'd never seen before this weekend.

Another definition of Fair is to "...smooth the lines of (a vehicle, boat, or aircraft) to reduce drag; streamline". We were extended incredibly warm hospitality, by people we'd just met, because we were with people who've been integral parts of the community for their whole lives. We saw young people (again a very large group) donating their time to make the Fair a pleasurable experience for their guests. These volunteers are the most important aspect of the Fair. Not only do they keep the wheels turning by giving time to their community, they work with like minded people from their community. They know who can best help them help others in their community when needs arise. Let's face it, the young people you see working on Antique Hill or in the Cattle barns are the same faces you'll see in action when the community is threatened by disaster or hardship. If that's not streamlining community action I don't know what is.

It was a fantastic weekend of (maybe) too much beer, too much food I'm not used to and too little sleep. It was also a weekend of seeing the most important part of a Fair that I'm not sure too many "outsiders" see.

Turns out that a fair is a fair is a fair after all.